


Better Than Birds of a Feather

by nightwings (nauticalallusions)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021, Single Parents, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalallusions/pseuds/nightwings
Summary: When Kiyoomi turns to his locker, Miya clears his throat and says, “There’s a real nice daycare about two blocks away from here, Omi.”Kiyoomi freezes because… There’s just no way he heard that right. He’s hallucinating now, in his desperation to find a good daycare center as quickly as possible.“What do you…” Kiyoomi blinks, clears his throat, and shakes his head. “Why would you know that?”And Miya Atsumu looks at him, arches an eyebrow, and says, “Because I send my kid there,” and Kiyoomi’s entire world flips on its axis.Of all people that could have recommend daycares to him, Kiyoomi had never expected that person to be Miya Atsumu. Especially considering that Kiyoomi didn't even know that Miya Atsumu had a child. Nor did Kiyoomi think that their children would become so attached to each other as quickly as they had. Still, it seems hard to complain about the outcome when Miya keeps smiling at him like that.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 329





	Better Than Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for Day 6 of SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021! I wrote this off of the tier two prompt: single parent AU. This fic may have turned out slightly longer than intended, but it's tooth-rottingly sweet, so I hope you all enjoy!

Kiyoomi spends the entirety of his first practice with the MSBY Black Jackals thinking about daycares.

He’s not normally the type of person to get distracted but, well. It’s a particularly pressing matter. He still performs well, of course, despite the preoccupying thoughts, but, still. He feels a bit bad about it, not that he would ever admit to it. He thinks Miya might have noticed. It’s hard to tell, sometimes, what exactly goes on in Miya’s head. Still, the two of them have existed on the fringes of each other’s lives for a rather long time, and Kiyoomi is fairly certain that the look that Miya was giving him earlier was something between confusion, disappointment, and judgment.

Not that it matters. Kiyoomi has much more important things to spend his time thinking about than Miya Atsumu.

They wander back to the locker room after their team meeting, Bokuto and Inunaki and Miya chattering away about something or other.

Kiyoomi spends a few silent moments sorting through items in his bag. His brain is still operating on something akin to overdrive. This, probably, is why he turns to look at Meian and then at Barnes, who are both standing to his left.

“Meian-san. Barnes-san,” Kiyoomi says, his brow furrowing a bit. “Ah. Pardon me. You… You both have children, right?”

Meian arches an eyebrow at him. Barnes blinks about three times in a row.

“I have two kids and Meian has one,” Barnes says after a moment. “Why do you ask?”

Kiyoomi clears his throat, turns his attention back to his bag, and, somewhat hesitantly, says, “Do either of you send your children to daycare? Like one around here? Or… Or do others look after them?”

“My wife is a teacher, so she takes the kids to a daycare near her workplace,” Barnes offers finally. When Kiyoomi glances at him he can see that his lips are pursed, his eyes narrowed a bit, like he can’t even begin to try and guess why Kiyoomi is asking him such strange questions.

Meian shrugs and adds, “My mother lives with us, so she often looks after Miyoko when I’m at work.”

Ah. Perfect. Not only was none of that helpful at all, but now Kiyoomi has embarrassed himself for no reason.

“Is there a reason you’re asking?” Meian questions, his head tilted to the side.

Kiyoomi blinks once, twice, and accidentally slams the door to his locker closed instead of shutting it normally. “No,” he says, hoping his voice sounds calm. “Not really. My… Ah. My elder siblings are much older than I am and sometimes have to travel for work, so I’m forced to babysit occasionally.”

It doesn’t sound like a complete lie, honestly, but Kiyoomi is also fairly certain that to anyone who knows him at all the whole thing smells like bullshit. Case in point, Bokuto is staring at the three of them from halfway across the locker room. Kiyoomi and Bokuto barely even know each other. They’ve had maybe two conversations. And Kiyoomi just knows that _Bokuto_ knows that he’s lying through his teeth.

It’s not like he wants to keep Kaori a secret. Kiyoomi’s just not good at… Things like this. Talking to people. He’s never been good at it.

With nothing more than a polite nod in the direction of Barnes and Meian, Kiyoomi makes his way to the showers, cursing his idiocy. He can just look things up online, obviously. It’s not as reliable, but it will have to do.

When he makes his way back to his locker, most of his teammates have cleared out. He’s a bit surprised to see Miya still standing around, but he quickly dismisses the thought as completely unsurprising. Miya Atsumu is the vainest person on the planet, after all. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he takes this long to shower.

What is a surprise, however, is that when Kiyoomi turns to his locker, Miya clears his throat and says, “There’s a real nice daycare about two blocks away from here, Omi.”

Kiyoomi freezes because… There’s just no way he heard that right. He’s hallucinating now, in his desperation to find a good daycare center as quickly as possible.

“What do you…” Kiyoomi blinks, clears his throat, and shakes his head. “Why would you know that?”

And Miya Atsumu looks at him, arches an eyebrow, and says, “Because I send my kid there,” and Kiyoomi’s entire world flips on its axis.

It’s not that— well. He’s not really sure what he’s thinking, besides the fact that he could have never imagined that _Miya Atsumu_ would have a kid. 

Kiyoomi flounders for a very long moment. Finally, he offers, “Your girlfriend is as busy as you are, then?”

He would know, after all, if Miya had gotten married. There would have been news articles or something. Motoya would have told him, almost certainly. So… So Miya must have a girlfriend, then, one that he had a kid with, for _some reason_ and—

“I’m single,” Miya says, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he’s ready to throw down and fight at any second, like he’s daring Kiyoomi to say anything out of line.

Kiyoomi frowns and says, “Oh. When did you have a kid then, Miya?”

Miya watches him for a long moment and then rolls his eyes. “I don’t gotta tell ya everything about my life, Omi. Just check out the daycare, okay?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t even get the chance to reply before Miya turns on his heel and is out the door. He stands alone in the locker room, in stunned silence, as if he’s simply waiting to wake up from a dream. Or a nightmare, perhaps. It doesn’t happen. He stands there for a long time, staring after where Miya left. Eventually, he pulls on his clothes and a mask, grabs his bag, and heads home because, well—

The rest of the world hasn’t changed, really, even if Kiyoomi feels like everything he knew about Miya Atsumu has.

*

It’s not even that he cares about Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi decides as he reaches the lobby of his apartment building. Because he doesn’t. He never has. Miya Atsumu is obnoxious and annoying and has never learned how to shut up a day in his life. He’s— He’s aggravating. And Kiyoomi hates aggravating people.

Well, Kiyoomi hates a lot of things.

He reaches his door with a sigh, determined to stop thinking about Miya and whatever the hell that whole thing was, and pushes his way inside. A figure on the couch raises their head at the sight of him and Kiyoomi sighs.

“Is she asleep?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mizuki says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “We visited the park earlier, after lunch. She wore herself out. She should be up soon, though.”

Kiyoomi nods. He sets his bag down next to the couch and turns to look at Mizuki.

“Thank you,” he says. “For coming up here for a couple of days to help out while I figure everything out.”

Mizuki grins, something familiar and somewhat disorientating, and replies, “Anything for my favorite little brother.”

The only response that Kiyoomi gives her is a roll of his eyes. It’s the only one that she deserves, honestly. That joke has always been her favorite one, despite the fact that it’s never been all that funny.

“Any preferences on what we get for dinner?” Kiyoomi asks.

Mizuki laughs, fully aware of what he’s doing, and says, “Something nice. You owe me, you know. Kaito keeps texting me about the grey hairs that the kids are giving him.”

“You’ll have to give him my thanks too,” Kiyoomi says. “When you go back to Tokyo.”

Mizuki nods, but there’s something in her eyes now. It’s a look that Kiyoomi is distinctly familiar with, the one that means she’s onto him. His shoulders stiffen, just a bit.

They’re silent for long enough that Kiyoomi begins to shift, unable to stay still. Eventually, Mizuki makes her way into the kitchen to get herself a drink. Kiyoomi follows, unable to help himself. Mizuki clearly has something she wants to say and Kiyoomi doesn’t think he’ll be able to relax until she does.

“So,” Mizuki says. She’s leaning against the counter, one eyebrow arched, a glass of water in her hands. “Did you ask any of your teammates about daycares?”

Kiyoomi hums. He purses his lips. Is that all she wanted to know? The question seems too tame, honestly.

“I did. Both Barnes-san and Meian-san said that other people look after their kids, during practice times, so they don’t know of any daycares close to the training center.”

“Oh.” Mizuki frowns. Her eyes narrow. The mole under her right eye pulls down a bit. “Well, that’s a shame. I guess we’ll have to do a lot of research, then.”

“There was…” Kiyoomi hates that he’s even thinking about this. Miya was probably just bullshitting him earlier, honestly. He can’t ever recall a time that Miya was helpful in any way, shape, or form. “Someone else on my team mentioned a location earlier.”

Mizuki arches an eyebrow. “And you… Don’t believe him for some reason?”

“I don’t exactly trust him,” Kiyoomi says. He’s not entirely sure if his point will get across, but he hopes it does. “He’s… Aggravating.”

It’s not enough, really, of a description of what Miya is. He’s more than aggravating, Kiyoomi has always known. He’s ridiculous and hot-headed and loud and also strangely pretty, all things considered. Now even more so that his hair doesn’t look like the worst dye job known to man.

Not that that matters. At all.

“You think everyone is aggravating,” Mizuki says. She sounds entirely unamused and, really, Kiyoomi doesn’t blame her.

She’s not wrong, after all.

“I’ve known him for years,” Kiyoomi finally offers, unsure why he’s saying this much. It’s probably because Mizuki keeps looking at him like that. Still, it’s a bit embarrassing. Kiyoomi isn’t usually this easy to crack under pressure. “He’s as much of an asshole as I am. And… Honestly, I didn’t even know that he had a child until earlier today.”

Mizuki hums. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s staring at him and Kiyoomi just knows that this whole thing is going to come back to bite him in the ass. She has that look in her eyes, the one that he always hated when she came back home to visit when he was in middle school and high school. She’s never going to forget this conversation, he knows. She’ll probably hold it over his head for months to come.

“Did he give you the location?” Mizuki asks. “It would at least be beneficial to research it and see if you think it might work.”

Kiyoomi has to concede that she’s probably right about that part but as he goes to reply he realizes that Miya— because he’s a giant fucking idiot— didn’t give him the name of the location. A sigh leaves him. He can probably find it by digging through maps on his phone, as annoying as that is.

When he pulls his phone out of his pocket, he’s startled at the sight of one text message atop a number of inane notifications, the contact name reading _Miya_.

Ah. He’d honestly forgotten that he and Miya had exchanged numbers, back in high school. It’s not like they’d ever really messaged each other before.

Kiyoomi blinks and reads, _It’s called Kiddie Cloud. Fucking dumb, I know, but still. It’s a good place. Don’t knock it_ _til_ _you’ve tried it and all that, Omi._

He stares at the message for a few more seconds, re-reading it several times.

“Yes,” Kiyoomi says, finally. “I suppose you’re right.”

Mizuki tosses her hair over her shoulder in an incredibly put-upon manner and says, “I’m always right, Kiyoomi.”

He’s tired enough that he doesn’t even try to roll his eyes at her.

*

The thing that Kiyoomi hadn’t anticipated about sending Kaori to the daycare that Miya Atsumu’s child attended is that that meant that Kaori and Miya’s spawn might meet. Even worse, they might _like_ each other.

And, yet.

Kiyoomi has terrible luck for such things, he’s realized, the older he gets. Life seems to haunt him in unexpected ways at all times.

So, somehow it’s unsurprising when Miya comes up to him in the locker room and says, “Izumi wants to have a playdate with Kaori-chan.”

Kiyoomi stares at him, for a very long moment, taking in the defensive way that Miya has his arms crossed over his chest and the sharpness of his glare and the tilt of his lips as he continues to frown. It’s almost as if Miya is expecting Kiyoomi to spit in his face and tell him to fuck off, or something.

And while… Well. The second part of that imagination might have happened before, Kiyoomi remembers, suddenly. He hadn’t been particularly nice to anyone during the youth training camps, after all. And Miya had been… Well. Entirely too much for teenaged Kiyoomi’s mind to process, perhaps.

Still, Kiyoomi would never spit in Miya’s face. That would be absolutely disgusting.

“Izumi?” Kiyoomi asks. He clears his throat. “Kaori has mentioned Izumi-kun before, but I had no idea that he was your son.”

Miya rolls his eyes. “Ya got a problem with it, Omi?”

Kiyoomi barely resists the urge to roll his eyes as well. Always so confrontational. At least almost nothing has changed about Miya, in all the years that they’ve known each other. 

Well. Besides the obvious.

“No,” Kiyoomi says, finally. He doesn’t. Not exactly. He’s just… Well.

Miya Atsumu, from what he remembers of him, is a somewhat unpalatable idiot of a human being with absolutely terrible hair. He’s loud and annoying and likes to try and know far too much about other people’s personal lives. Granted, Kiyoomi supposes that people can change. 

At the very least, Miya doesn’t have terrible hair now.

So.

“Oh.” Miya frowns and then says, “So… The playdate, Omi-kun?”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi concedes. He closes his locker and turns to look at Miya. “Is there a date you would prefer? Or a location?”

Miya blinks, just twice, and then shrugs. “Sometime this weekend, probably. We have all day Saturday off. Or we have Sunday afternoon off. And… Uh. I was thinkin’ probably a park if yer okay with being outside for a while.”

“That’s fine.” Kiyoomi nods and bends over to put his shoes into his gym bag and grabs it off of the bench. “How about Saturday? In the afternoon?”

Miya is silent, for a moment. It’s long enough that Kiyoomi turns to look at him again. He finds Miya staring, his arms crossed and his left eyebrow raised. Kiyoomi arches an eyebrow in return, his eyes narrowing.

What on earth is that look supposed to mean?

“Works for me and Izumi,” Miya says, finally. 

“Very well. Text me the location of a park and Kaori and I will meet you there.”

They’re staring at each other again, then. The locker room is silent. Kiyoomi honestly hadn’t realized that Miya had waited until everyone else left to ask Kiyoomi about this. Strangely, Kiyoomi is a little touched. Had Miya realized that Kiyoomi had lied to Barnes-san and Meian-san about not having a child? Did Miya know how nervous talking about all of it made Kiyoomi actually feel?

No, probably not, Kiyoomi decides finally. Miya is usually rather self-centered. There’s no way that he would have been playing that close of attention to Kiyoomi. Still. He’s grateful, honestly, even though this is probably just Miya protecting his own secrets or something like that.

Miya hums and then turns away to grab his bag. Kiyoomi stares at his back for a few seconds more before doing the same.

“I’ll text ya later, then,” Miya says. “And I’ll see ya tomorrow at practice.”

“Yes.” Kiyoomi clears his throat. “See you tomorrow, Miya.”

When he looks up from his bag, Miya is already gone.

*

The park is more remote than Kiyoomi had imagined it would be. When he’d allowed Miya to choose a location, Kiyoomi had imagined a crowded park, people running and laughing everywhere, with dirty playground equipment for Izumi-chan and Kaori to use.

And yet.

“This place is… nice,” Kiyoomi says, finally.

He and Miya haven’t said more than five words to each other since they arrived at the park with Izumi and Kaori in tow. In fact, Kiyoomi is fairly certain the only words they’ve spoken were when Miya said hello and Kiyoomi nodded in response.

Miya shifts next to him and Kiyoomi turns to see him raise an eyebrow. Strangely, Miya looks kind of pretty in the morning sunlight, practically hidden in the gigantic hoodie that he’s bundled himself into. His hair looks incredibly pale, almost white in the sunlight. Kiyoomi finds himself oddly distracted by it.

“Ya really think so?” Miya asks after a quiet moment. “I kinda thought ya’d hate wherever I picked, Omi-kun.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” Kiyoomi says. He can’t bring himself to say anything else.

Miya hums, eventually. They sit in silence for a long time, watching Izumi and Kaori play whatever made-up game they’ve come up with that seems to involve running in circles around a tree or two. Kiyoomi isn’t going to ask. It’s probably better if he doesn’t know, honestly.

It’s easy, somehow, to sit in silence with Miya. Kiyoomi is very much a Sit In Silence type of person, but he often finds that other people dislike that about him. Honestly, Kiyoomi had always figured that Miya would be one of those people too, considering the amount of inane chatter that often comes out of Miya’s mouth.

And yet they continue to sit, no noises between them other than the occasional soft sigh that leaves Miya’s lips.

Eventually, Miya decides that they’ve sat in silence for far too long and says, “So… Kaori-chan, huh? When did ya have a kid, Omi-kun?”

“College,” Kiyoomi settles on admitting. He turns his head to watch the arch of Miya’s eyebrows and the small smile on his lips. “Ah… There was a night of incredibly bad decision-making, I suppose. Still. I don’t mind that it got me here.”

Miya hums again and asks, “And her mom?”

Kiyoomi sighs. 

It’s not as if Kaori and Yua are difficult topics to discuss. Honestly, the whole thing had been very clear-cut, which had been a relief. Still, it’s strange to be sitting here discussing these things with Miya, of all people.

“She’s fine, I assume,” Kiyoomi offers. “We don’t speak often, but she has Kaori for a weekend every month. It was just the custody arrangement we reached, as she didn’t want children all that much. Especially not this young.”

Miya nods. His fingers drum against the bench. His eyes are watching Kaori and Izumi, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

“Makes sense. Not a lot of people want to be parents young, Omi.”

“But you are,” Kiyoomi can’t help but say.

He’s not sure why he says it, actually. A part of him has been curious about Izumi since he discovered that Miya has a son. Still, there’s another part of him that’s almost afraid to hear what Miya has to say about his son. Maybe it stems from how little the two of them look like each other. Maybe it comes from the fact that Kiyoomi finds that he wants to hate the way Miya looks at his son but is wholly incapable of it. Maybe it’s just that Kiyoomi has always wished he could hate Miya more than he does.

“He’s my cousin, actually,” Miya says. There’s something delicate in his voice. Kiyoomi blinks. Miya is looking at him now. His head is tilted back ever so slightly, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. “Ah. My aunt and uncle died in a car accident, two years back. Custody of Izumi had to go to either me, ‘Samu, or my ma.”

“Your mother didn’t take him?”

Miya is quiet when he says, “My ma was sick at the time. She’s better now, but it was bad enough that she didn’t think she could take care of Izumi by herself.”

“And Osamu-san?” 

Kiyoomi has always remembered Osamu as the more respectable seeming of the Miya twins, although he doesn’t think he’s ever known much about Osamu. He seems more put together, at the very least.

“Too busy with school and starting his business,” Miya says. “Also… Ah. Don’t tell him that I told ya, but… Uh. Ha. He’s terrified of kids. The first time we met Sunarin’s little sister he almost cried when Suna told him to hold her.”

Kiyoomi has always been a fairly unimaginative person, so he draws a blank at the words. They’re distantly amusing but feel so far outside of him that he finds himself blinking at Miya, an eyebrow arched. Miya blinks back at him and then lets out an awkward laugh. He seems as if he’s about to say something else when a voice interrupts whatever idiotic thought he was about to say out loud.

“Papa!”

Kiyoomi turns to find Izumi dashing at full speed towards them. He stumbles over his shoes and crashes into Kiyoomi’s leg. Kiyoomi blinks and reaches out a hand to steady him. Completely unfazed, Izumi turns to Miya with a wide grin and says, “Look at this bug I found!”

Kiyoomi can’t help but cringe. _Ugh._ Disgusting.

Miya arches an eyebrow and leans over, peering at Izumi’s hands.

“That’s a leaf,” he points out, his voice dry. “It’s a pretty one, though. Nice find, kiddo. Wanna show it off to Omi?”

Izumi turns with wide eyes, his hands lifted to present the leaf-bug. Kiyoomi shoots a glare at Miya before he peers at what is most definitely a leaf and not a bug. A sigh of relief leaves him.

“It’s a very pretty leaf,” Kiyoomi says. “Did you show it to Kaori?”

“Oh!” Izumi blinks so many times that Kiyoomi is unsure if he has something in his eye or if he’s actually just surprised and then turns to run back to the tree that Kaori is still wandering around.

Kiyoomi watches him run off and then, completely unbidden, says, “He’s cute. You’ve done a good job raising him, Miya.”

“Oh?” Miya’s voice is unbearably smug and Kiyoomi wants to smack him for it. “Do my ears deceive me or was that a compliment, Omi-kun?”

“It was a compliment.” Kiyoomi grinds his jaw and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Miya’s laughter is so bright that Kiyoomi can’t help but glance at him. His head is resting against the back of the bench, his eyes crinkled as he stares up at the sky. It’s a good look on him, Kiyoomi thinks. Not that it’s a surprise, exactly. Miya is pretty. It’s a simple fact of life that Kiyoomi has learned to accept, as much as it annoys him.

“How can I not let it go to my head, Omi-Omi?” Miya turns his head to look at Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi flinches, a little annoyed that he’s been caught staring. “I think this might be the first time ya’ve ever actually complimented me before, ya know.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Impossible,” he says. “I compliment your tosses fairly often.”

“Outside of volleyball,” Miya clarifies. There’s a look in his eyes that is both bright and seems like something Kiyoomi shouldn’t like. “Normally when we talk about anything else ya just tell me I’m annoying and tell me to shut up.”

“You’re annoying and you should shut up,” Kiyoomi says, although the words hold no heat.

Miya just laughs again.

Kiyoomi stares at him for a moment longer than he should before he forces himself to watch their children again.

Their silence is long, this time, long enough that Kiyoomi pulls out his phone and taps aimlessly at his email and a few mindless games. Anything to keep his attention away from the fact that Miya has sunk lower on the bench and now their elbows keep brushing against each other’s, a delicate whisper of his skin against the soft fabric of Miya’s hoodie.

Eventually, Miya seems to find the silence too much to bear, since he starts shifting. Kiyomi ignores him for several more moments before the restlessness gets to be too much and he sighs. He closes his phone and pinches at the bridge of his nose.

“What, Miya?”

“Why did ya…” Miya frowns. He bites at his bottom lip and hums like he’s not sure if he should actually say anything and then continues, “Why did ya tell Barnes-san and Meian-san that ya were asking about daycares for yer nieces and nephews?”

That’s… Well. Kiyoomi isn’t sure why he didn’t expect Miya to ask him this. Perhaps because Miya hasn’t said anything, yet. Maybe because Miya has been oddly quiet about Kiyoomi’s refusal to talk about Kaori to anyone, yet. Still, he finds himself blinking at Miya, his brain moving a little too slowly to fully process anything.

The thing is, though, Kiyoomi isn’t really sure that there’s a good answer. At least not one that he wants to give Miya. Kiyoomi has never thought himself much of a coward, after all. But, well. Cowardice is the simple truth as to why sometimes it feels so difficult to say Kaori’s name out loud.

Miya is watching him, still, his eyes narrowed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell people about her,” Kiyoomi says finally. He turns away from Miya to look at their children again. The two of them have found sticks from somewhere and are staging a somewhat epic-looking duel. It seems slightly dangerous and Kiyoomi supposes that they should probably stop them, but he figures it’s fine if the two of them continue on for a few more minutes. They seem like they’re having fun, after all.

“Why, then?” Miya asks again.

“I’m scared, I suppose.” It’s strange to say out loud. It’s maybe even stranger to be so honest with Miya. “My parents… They acted like they were so disappointed when they found out that I had… Well. They love Kaori, of course, but I don’t think they’ll ever completely forgive me for sleeping with Yua in the first place. They said it was so unlike me to be so careless. I sort of figured they were right about that, in the end. It’s hard to have people look at you like you’re a fuck up. I wasn’t sure if it would feel worse if it was my parents or if it was people I barely knew.”

Kiyoomi really didn’t mean to say that much. He frowns, raising a hand to cover his mouth, just to prevent himself from speaking more. How embarrassing.

“Yer not a fuck up,” Miya says. There’s something dark and intense in his eyes. Kiyoomi thinks he’s seen the look before, but he can’t quite recall where. Not recently, at the very least. “Yer just human, Omi-kun. It’s okay to fuck up sometimes. And… C’mon. Ya can’t fool me, Omi. Kaori isn’t a fuck up.”

“I know that.” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, shooting a glance towards Kaori. She and Izumi have put the sticks down (thank god) and are bent over in the grass, pointing at something. Kaori’s skirt has grass stains all over the hem. “She’s… She’s the best thing in my life, I think.”

When he looks back at Miya, there’s a small smile on his face that Kiyoomi doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

“Yeah,” Miya says. “I know the feeling.”

*

It’s easy, somehow, to fall into a strange little routine with Miya and Kaori and Izumi. Kiyoomi isn’t exactly sure how everything escalates to the point that he finds himself spending almost all of his free time with Miya but, suddenly, he can’t remember the last time that a day passed without him seeing Miya’s smile.

Which, really, sounds far sappier than the whole ordeal has been.

Still, it’s a strange thought that occurs to him one evening, when the four of them are crowded into a booth at Miya’s favorite restaurant, Kaori and Izumi seated next to each other on one bench and Kiyoomi and Miya seated on the one opposite them.

“When was the last time we had a meal alone?” Kiyoomi asks, almost to himself, as he tries to wipe a bit of sauce off of Kaori’s cheek. She keeps squirming and pouting at him, but he refuses to be deterred.

Miya hums and says, “What was that, Omi?”

Kiyoomi purses his lips. He finishes wiping Kaori’s cheek clean and finally says, “When was the last time we ate a meal without each other, Miya?”

Miya blinks. He frowns, just a bit, his eyebrows pulling down ever so slightly.

“Does it matter?” Miya asks after a pause. He leans his cheek against his hand and arches an eyebrow at Kiyoomi.

Honestly, Kiyoomi isn’t sure if there’s a right answer to that question. It feels particularly loaded. If he says that there’s something wrong with it then he’s risking Miya’s ire. However, if he says that there isn’t anything wrong with it then he’s revealing too much of his hand. Despite how much time they’ve spent together recently, Kiyoomi is oddly unhappy with the idea of Miya looking at him and knowing exactly what he’s feeling.

“I don’t know,” Kiyomi settles on saying, eventually. “It just occurred to me that we spend more time together than apart now, Miya.”

“If we spend more time together than apart then ya should call me Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi freezes. His mouth falls open a bit as he stares at Miya, his brow furrowing. That’s… Well. That might just be too much. Miya is still looking at him, though, his eyes dark and a little wide.

Kiyoomi turns back to Kaori to distract himself. She’s picking at the vegetables on her plate and pouting, so Kiyoomi leans over to cut them into smaller bites for her. He’s still trying to think about what, exactly, he should say to Miya when Izumi says, “Papa, that lady keeps staring at us.”

Kiyoomi glances up, his brow furrowing, as Miya says, “Izumi, don’t point at people. It ain’t polite,” and pushes Izumi’s hand gently back down to the table.

Izumi might not be pointing anymore, but it’s fairly easy to find the woman that he must have been referring to. She seems to be done eating and is in the process of signing her receipt. Her stare doesn’t seem all that hostile, but she’s definitely sitting there watching the four of them. Kiyoomi shifts ever so slightly so that Kaori is hidden behind him. He shoots a glance at Miya, but Miya seems entirely focused on Izumi.

“Can we help you?” Kiyoomi finally settles on asking, turning his gaze back to the woman.

She startles, just a bit, her eyes widening. Miya seems a little startled too. He’s frowning, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ah.” The woman blinks a few times. “I apologize. I was just… Your family is adorable. You two have lovely children. Are they twins? It must be a joy to raise them together.”

Oh. She thinks that… Oh.

Kiyoomi is fairly certain that he’s blushing behind his mask. He hopes that he isn’t, but he’s not entirely sure how to prevent it from happening. He’s thankful that he put the mask back on a few minutes ago when he finished eating. At the very least, hopefully, nobody can tell that he’s flustered.

“Ah.” Kiyoomi blinks a few times. “Um… Actually, we’re—”

“Thanks,” Miya says, all charming Kansai accent and wide, pretty smiles. “That’s real nice of ya to say.”

“Oh, of course,” the woman says. She smiles at them once more, nods, and then gathers her things in order to leave.

Kiyoomi watches her walk out of the restaurant and then turns to stare at Miya. He’s frowning, although he doesn’t think Miya can tell.

“What was that about?” He asks, his brow furrowing. “Why did you let her believe that we’re…”

“What? That we’re married and raising two kids or somethin’, Omi?”

Kiyoomi grinds his teeth and does his best not to think about all the ways that Miya Atsumu is more of an annoyance than someone he enjoys spending time with. Not that it matters much. They are still having dinner together, the two of them and Izumi and Kaori. And, strangely, Kiyoomi thinks that there’s no one else he’d rather be here with. Even if Miya is an annoying piece of shit.

“Sure. Something like that,” he says blandly.

Miya watches him for a moment, his eyes quiet. Izumi starts tugging at Miya’s sleeve, momentarily diverting his attention. Kiyoomi feels slightly relieved to have Miya’s eyes off of him.

“It’s just easier to let her believe it,” Miya says, eventually. He’s still doting on Izumi, brushing at his hair and feeding him some of the food that was left on his plate. “She’d already convinced herself of it, Omi-Omi. It would’ve been weird to try and argue with her about it. Does it matter what she thinks?”

No. It’s the instinctive answer that Kiyoomi wants to give. Of course it doesn’t matter what some random woman that he’ll never see again thinks about him and Atsumu and Kaori and Izumi. Still, there’s a piece of Kiyoomi that feels like it’s floating, completely cut free from the rest of his body.

“I suppose not,” he says.

“Besides,” Miya continues. There’s a hint of laughter in his voice now. “If we’re married and raising our twins together, then ya definitely have to call me Atsumu, Omi-Omi.”

Kiyoomi feels his eye twitch. He grinds his teeth and says, “We’re getting a divorce, Atsumu.”

Miya throws his head back and laughs, bright and loud, and Kiyoomi thinks about his lips and his face and how pretty he looks when he smiles. Kiyoomi thinks that he’s probably fucked now, if he wasn’t already.

*

Kiyoomi is too used to seeing Atsumu in his house.

It’s a startling thought, actually, to realize that Atsumu and Izumi have somehow planted themselves so firmly in his life that Kiyoomi isn’t sure when he last spent a day without them there. Even today, they spent several hours at the park in the afternoon. Kiyoomi had even invited Atsumu and Izumi over for dinner. Atsumu had looked like he was going to agree until Izumi had reminded him that they were apparently supposed to meet Osamu-san for dinner with a bright, “Papa! Uncle ‘Samu!”

So, Kiyoomi and Kaori are alone at the kitchen table tonight. Kaori is scraping her fork around her plate, drawing patterns in the sauce.

Kiyoomi sighs. “Kaori,” he says after a moment.

She shifts, her head lifting, and smiles up at him. It’s a smile that Kiyoomi has adored from the second he first saw it, the one that lifts the mole under her mouth higher, her eyes crinkled with the force of it.

“Dad,” she says, her face shifting into a somewhat serious-looking pout.

“What do you think of Izumi-kun and Atsumu?” Kiyoomi can’t help but ask. “We’ve been spending a lot of time with them recently.”

“Izumi is my best friend!” Kaori says with the joy that only a child can truly have. She claps her hands together, a bit of sauce flying off of the fork she still has gripped in her right hand. Kiyoomi chooses not to think about how much of a pain cleaning that will be. He’ll deal with it later. “Will we see Izumi tomorrow?”

The response is to be expected, honestly, all things considered.

Kaori has always been a somewhat solitary child, perhaps because Kiyoomi is a solitary person himself, but also because she doesn’t seem to attach herself to other children all that intensely. 

Still, her attachment to Izumi is something of a relief. Kiyoomi has worried for a long time that Kaori had no one other than him.

“We can see Izumi-kun tomorrow,” Kiyoomi confirms. He clears his throat and adds, “What do you think of Atsumu, Kaori?”

Kaori blinks. She watches him for a moment, her eyes all too focused. She has that look on her face, now, the one where she looks like she knows entirely too much.

“Tsumu makes Dad happy,” Kaori settles on declaring, her smile wide and her eyes bright.

Kiyoomi blinks. He’s fairly certain that he might be blushing, despite the fact that he rarely does. How fucking embarrassing.

“He does,” Kiyoomi agrees. He can’t even deny it. There’s no point, anymore. Kaori is incredibly good at seeing through him, despite the fact that she’s just barely three. It’s not as if he can be mad about it, of course. Kaori is simply being honest. His siblings and parents have told him that he was just as blatantly honest when he was her age, and it’s not like much changed throughout the rest of his life. 

And, well. As annoying as his feelings for Atsumu are turning out to be, Kiyoomi doesn’t think he can bring himself to pretend that they don’t exist, anymore. It would be somewhat unfair, he feels, to the strange little family that the four of them have formed in the past few months. Atsumu deserves the truth from him, probably.

The buzz of his phone startles Kiyoomi from his thoughts. He leans over to check the messages, startled to see Atsumu’s name pop up in his notifications.

 _Hey_ , the message reads. _‘Samu had to go deal with some stuff so dinner finished real early. Do you and Kaori want some ice cream? Izumi keeps asking, so I figured we could pick some up and come over. If that’s cool._

Kaori certainly doesn’t need ice cream, Kiyoomi knows, but his heart feels caught in his throat. He’s tired of dancing around Atsumu and this could be his chance to stop doing just that. So he texts back a quick _Sure. See you soon_. and turns back to Kaori.

“We should clean up,” he says, reaching out to brush her hair down gently. “If you clean up quickly then we might have time for a surprise.”

“Surprise?” Kaori’s face lights up and she practically tumbles her way out of her chair. Kiyoomi bites back a laugh as he gathers the dishes. “What surprise?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you what it was,” Kiyoomi replies as he makes his way to the sink. Kaori toddles after him. When he comes to a stop and begins rinsing off their dishes she wraps her arms around his leg, her face tilted back to stare up at him.

Kaori is pouting now, definitely. It’s cute, in the most obnoxious kind of way. Kiyoomi can practically feel his heart melting.

Kiyoomi allows Kaori to cling to his leg while he finishes washing the dishes. He sets them in the drying rack, dries off his hands, and leans down to pick her up. 

“Surprise,” Kaori says. She plants her hands on her hips in a remarkable impression of Mizuki, her eyebrows pulling down.

Kiyoomi does his best not to smile. “You’ll find out very soon,” he tells her.

Her pout becomes even fiercer, if anything, and Kiyoomi huffs out a breath that might be a laugh. Still, Kaori is nothing if not stubborn, and she spends the next ten minutes pestering Kiyoomi about the surprise until he settles her down in the living room and turns on a movie. She’s usually distracted enough by bright colors.

The two of them sit together on the couch, Kaori curled up in Kiyoomi’s lap, quiet and peaceful, until there’s a knock on the door.

Kaori blinks, sits up straight, and says, “Surprise?”

This time, Kiyoomi can’t help the laugh that leaves him. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s the surprise.”

Kaori is quick to scramble off of Kiyoomi’s lap and towards the door. By the time Kiyoomi has paused the movie and caught up to her, she’s already stood on her tiptoes and opened the door on her own.

“Izumi! ‘Tsumu!” Kaori is clapping her hands together. The smile on her face is wide and bright.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Atsumu says. There’s a matching smile on his face, his eyes crinkled a bit with the force of it. “How are ya doing?”

“Kaori!” Izumi launches himself through the doorway, attaching himself to Kaori’s side. Kaori accepts the affection readily, clinging to him in return. “We brought ice cream!”

“Ice cream?” Kaori blinks once, twice, and then she turns to Kiyoomi and, in an excited little whisper that’s actually incredibly loud, says, “The surprise?”

Kiyoomi bites back a laugh again. “Yes. The ice cream is the surprise.”

Kaori claps her hands together again and cheers. Izumi cheers along with her, although Kiyoomi isn’t exactly sure if he knows why the two of them are so excited. Then again, he supposes that ice cream, in general, must be an incredibly exciting prospect to the two of them, be it a surprise or not.

“Hey, Omi.”

Kiyoomi turns to look at Atsumu. He’s still standing just outside of the doorway. His hair is unstyled, pressed underneath a beanie that he pulls off as he enters. He toes his shoes off, telling Izumi to do the same, and sets his hat down on the small table in the entryway. He’s wearing sweatpants and a large hoodie that he drowns in and Kiyoomi thinks that he looks incredibly soft.

It’s almost a bit too much, honestly.

“Hi,” Kiyoomi says. He stares at Atsumu for a long moment and then clears his throat. “Shall we head to the kitchen?”

Atsumu raises an eyebrow and says, “We shall, Omi-kun.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to wrangle two incredibly excited, squirming children to the kitchen, but after several more mentions of ice cream, Kaori and Izumi are agreeable enough. Kiyoomi wanders around the kitchen, grabbing bowls and spoons as Miya sets the bags of ice cream down on the counter. Miya serves a small portion of ice cream into each bowl and Kiyoomi— be it either because he’s exhausted enough to decide he doesn’t care or because he’s feeling generous tonight— allows Kaori and Izumi to eat in front of the television so that they can continue to watch the movie.

Once the kids are settled and the movie is unpaused, Kiyoomi makes his way back into the kitchen, grabbing another set of bowls to get ice cream for both himself and Atsumu. Atsumu hasn’t moved much. In fact, he’s standing in the doorway that goes from the kitchen to the living room, his eyes staring out into the kitchen.

Kiyoomi arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. The silence is only broken, eventually, when Atsumu speaks.

“Oh, Omi,” Atsumu says. “Do ya have a rag or something?”

Kiyoomi frowns. He’s not exactly sure why Atsumu is asking, since neither of the kids have made a mess. Maybe it’s just a preemptive strike. With a shrug, Kiyoomi digs through the cabinet to the left of the sink and finds a rag he generally uses to clean Kaori’s biggest spills and tosses it to Atsumu.

Atsumu grins at him. He turns to the sink and gets a corner of the rag wet and then turns to the table and starts scrubbing and dabbing at the sauce stain that Kaori had left there during dinner.

Kiyoomi blinks. He watches Atsumu’s hands and the rag and the small smile on Atsumu’s face and thinks that his heart shouldn’t be beating this fast.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurts out.

 _Fuck._ How embarrassing.

Kiyoomi is sure that his face must be bright red right now, but he feels less embarrassed about it when he looks at Atsumu and finds that his face is bright red as well, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open a bit.

“Wh-What?” Atsumu asks. His voice cracks on the word. Kiyoomi would make fun of him for it, normally, but he can’t bring himself to do so now.

“I love you,” Kiyoomi says, clearing his throat. He needs to stop talking. “Ah. I apologize if you didn’t want… But. I just—”

“No,” Atsumu blurts out. He drops the rag on the table and raises his hands to cover his face. His eyes peek out from behind his fingers, wide and a little watery. “No, don’t apologize Omi. Jeez.”

Kiyoomi hums. Hesitantly, he takes a step towards Atsumu. “So… It doesn’t bother you?”

“Bother me?” Atsumu’s hands raise further, hiding his eyes from view. “No, no it doesn’t bother me. God, Omi, why are ya like this?”

Kiyoomi stops in front of Atsumu and reaches out to grab his hands. He pulls them downwards, taking a moment to appreciate the dusting of red along Atsumu’s cheeks and the way that he keeps blinking to hold back tears.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says. “I’d like an answer, eventually.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Atsumu breathes out. He pitches his body forward, almost as if he’s tripped over absolutely nothing, until he’s pressed against Kiyoomi’s body, his forehead resting against Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “I love ya too, obviously. Idiot.”

Hesitantly, Kiyoomi raises his arms and curls them around Atsumu’s back, bringing him closer to his chest. Atsumu huffs out a little sigh against Kiyoomi’s neck. It’s peaceful and a kind of pleasant that Kiyoomi had never thought he wanted until this very moment. Kiyoomi shoots a glance down at Atsumu’s face, his hair flat and unstyled, his eyes closed, everything about him relaxed, and thinks about how much he wants to kiss him.

“Papa!” Izumi’s voice says from the other room. “We spilled!”

Kiyoomi sighs. Of course.

With a groan, Atsumu pulls out of his arms. He grabs the rag off of the table and then stops, staring.

Kiyoomi arches an eyebrow at him. Atsumu blinks. His cheeks turn red again.

Unbidden, a smile pulls Kiyoomi’s lips upwards.

“If you go clean it up then I’ll owe you,” Kiyoomi says, a light and airy kind of laughter rattles around in his chest, wanting so badly to be set free. “A kiss, perhaps.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen and then he says, “Done deal, Omi.”

Kiyoomi stands alone in the kitchen for all of a minute before he can’t stay still any longer. He follows after Atsumu, rounding the corner to see that whatever spill that occurred is already cleaned up and Atsumu is seated in between Kaori and Izumi as they both cling to one of his arms.

“Papa,” Izumi says, in that particularly stubborn way of his that must be a Miya family trait. “You have ice cream too.”

“Ah, thanks, kiddo.” Atsumu is laughing as he ruffles Izumi’s hair. Kaori has practically crawled into Atsumu’s lap and is trying to force her spoon of ice cream into his mouth. “The two of ya should just eat it on yer own, though. I’m okay.”

Kiyoomi’s heart feels like mush. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this much all at once before except for, perhaps, the first time he held Kaori in his arms. Without even thinking about the movement, Kiyoomi drifts over to join the three of them. He shifts Kaori a bit so she’s half-seated on Atsumu’s lap and half-seated on his own.

Atsumu turns his head to the side and smiles, his eyes crinkling and his head tilted back a bit. His smile becomes unbearably smug when he says, “I think ya owe me something, Omi-Omi.”

“Hm.” Kiyoomi shoots a cursory glance at the table. The mess is definitely already gone, but he waits until Miya’s smug smile droops a bit before he says, “I suppose I do.”

The kiss is messy, kind of. Izumi is tugging on Atsumu’s arm and Kaori is squirming between their laps and they almost miss each other’s lips but. Well.

Kiyoomi would like to think that it’s practically perfect.

“Papa,” Izumi complains, his hand reaching out to push at Atsumu’s face. Kiyoomi blinks when their lips part, glancing down at Izumi to see him pouting. “No. More ice cream.”

“More ice cream!” Kaori agrees. She claps her hands and pats at Kiyoomi’s cheek, just like Izumi is doing to Atsumu.

Atsumu huffs out a laugh. He looks beautiful, his cheeks red and his lips a little wet and the lines of his face relaxed in happiness. Kiyoomi reaches out and touches his cheek.

The movement seems to startle Atsumu, because his mouth falls open, his eyes widen, and he blinks several times.

“I guess we should get more ice cream,” Kiyoomi says, finally, just to see the way that Izumi and Kaori both turn to look at him with stars in their eyes. He reaches out and pats both of their hands, his right hand in Kaori’s hair and his left in Izumi’s.

When he looks at Atsumu again the smile on his face is small but bright and his eyes look a little watery.

“Yeah, Omi,” he says, his voice crackly and warm, like sitting in front of a fireplace. “I guess we should.”

Kiyoomi leans over to press a kiss to Atsumu’s hair. When he stands to go get the ice cream off of the kitchen table, Atsumu’s hand clings to his own for longer than probably necessary. 

When he returns with two new bowls of ice cream, Izumi and Kaori are both in Atsumu’s lap, now, Izumi chattering away and Kaori blinking sleepily. Atsumu notices him standing in the doorway and arches an eyebrow. And Kiyoomi— well. It might be entirely too sappy to ever actually admit out loud but he thinks, abruptly and happily, that he could get used to this. Maybe he already is, really.

“Hey,” Atsumu says, once Kiyoomi is settled back next to him and Izumi and Kaori are in possession of more ice cream. “So… We’re going to do this, right?”

It sounds like a challenge, in so many ways, but Kiyoomi supposes that that’s just how Atsumu is. Or maybe that’s just how he is himself.

And, really, there’s nothing wrong with a challenge.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi agrees. “Let’s do this, Miya.”

Atsumu is smiling, a smile that Kiyoomi thinks is definitely becoming his favorite, when he says, “Back to Miya again? Come on, Omi.”

Kiyoomi leans forward until his forehead is resting against Atsumu’s. “Sorry,” he says. “Atsumu.”

When they kiss again, it tastes a bit like the ice cream that Kaori fed Atsumu earlier and it also tastes a bit like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all again for reading!
> 
> If you want to chat I'm [here](https://nauticalallusions.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and also at [@kejitori](https://twitter.com/kejietori) on twitter. I'm always open to comments and chatting, be it talk about writing (either my fics or if you want my opinion on something of yours) or some wild rants about whichever Haikyuu!! ship or character strikes your fancy.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments (I'll cherish each and every one of them), and I'll try to reply to them all! <3


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